


Jolene

by FreeWinona



Series: Time in a Bottle [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: 1970s, Disco, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2019-06-20 17:53:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15539745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreeWinona/pseuds/FreeWinona
Summary: Joyce revisits old friends and relationships at her 10 year Hawkin's high school reunion. The first story in the Time in a Bottle series. A little angsty, a little fluffy and a whole lot of disco! Re-uploaded with a few edits and chapter breaks 05/29/19





	1. Chapter 1

Hawkins, Indiana  
1975  
  
  
  
  
  
Joyce didn’t even know why she bothered getting dressed up. She had a feeling it was just going to be a rehash of prom all over again; all the bad parts, none of the good.

 

Although she had planned the night out with Karen weeks in advance, even switching shifts at Melvald’s to take the night off, she was suddenly dreading her class reunion. She was feeling her nerves before she even got in the car, and it had nothing to do with being forced to be the third wheel to the Wheelers — pun intended — or that her husband was missing in action, as per usual.

 

A case of the butterflies descended on her and her nervousness peaked. She wondered if she looked okay, glancing from the backseat into the rearview mirror to double check. At the last minute, she had applied more makeup than usual and messed up her eyeshadow. Karen offered to help her with it, lightening the shade and giving her a more dramatic look overall to make it blend, topping it off with a peachy gloss to make her lips pop. Joyce felt like a little girl that had gotten into her mommy’s makeup, despite Karen’s insistence it made her look just like Cher. 

 

With her long dark hair styled and left down, and the too-tall platform lamé heels she borrowed from Karen’s closet — ones she had to concentrate on walking in without rolling an ankle — Joyce felt fairly confident she would turn heads. She hadn’t gotten this dolled up in years. Her stomach flipped as she glimpsed herself in the mirror, looking like she belonged on an record sleeve. She didn’t know if she still had the confidence needed to pull this off.

 

Her nervousness was stemming both from the prospect of reliving her last year of high school all over again, along with the all-too-real possibility of seeing Jim Hopper again.

 

Somehow ten years had passed, and yet the feelings remained. She was sure by now she could call him the one that got away; if she were a bolder person, she might have even called him the love of her life… It was good her husband wasn’t with her after all, or he would’ve called her on it, reading her like an open book. She never got dressed up for Lonnie anymore. Besides, he never really trusted Hopper around her, and she was fairly certain he stopped trusting her with Hop a long time ago too.

 

And fair enough — Lonnie had every reason to not trust her around the other man. The last time she had seen Hopper had been at yet another blowout Hawkins party in the summer of ’70, and she vividly remembered what went down that night. And prom night, come to think of it…

 

They had kept in touch over the last five years, Hopper acting as a much-needed sounding board when Lonnie was gone for days, or drank too much, or got aggressive with her. Hop had insisted she call him whenever she needed to, and she took him up on it. Their phone calls had become a regular occurance over the years, but had abruptly stopped just before Christmas last year, and she hadn’t heard from him since.

 

Joyce tugged the hem of the dress towards her knees — was her prom dress always this short? The crinoline was missing now, but that should have made it longer. It had been tight around her waist when she had tried it on earlier that week, and so she had let it out an inch or two, but she didn’t even consider taking down the hem until just now. Seventeen-year-old Joyce clearly had more confidence than twenty-seven-year-old Joyce, and she wished she could have saved up for that flow-y Gunne Sax dress she had been eyeing in the Sears catalog instead.

 

She pulled at the fabric once more, smoothing out the wrinkles and making sure the sweetheart neckline was sitting properly before she had to go in. She definitely filled it out much better than she remembered… the miracle of motherhood twice over, she supposed. She was practically spilling out of the dress now, and she gave one more futile tug on the top to cover up more before admitting defeat.

 

The Oldsmobile came to a stop in the parking lot, and as she stepped out of the car, she heard Karen Wheeler gasp from the front seat, “Oh my god, I’d recognize that beehive anywhere! Someone should tell her that look is over… Wait, is Eleanor Gillespie actually going with Fred Simmons?”

 

“I don’t know who that is, dear,” Ted said, monotone as he opened the door to help his wife out of the vehicle.

 

She sighed, already exasperated with him, as she rolled up the car window, “I wasn’t asking you, Ted.”

 

Joyce threw her hands in the air at her friend in response to her question and started off toward the decorated entrance to Hawkins High. “I think they started seeing each other a few years ago…”

 

“And…?” Karen trailed after Joyce, Ted following close behind as he tried to keep up with his wife’s quick, excited steps.

 

“And that’s all I heard!” Joyce rolled her eyes at Karen as they crossed the parking lot. 

 

Karen scoffed behind her friend’s back, “You’re bad at gossip, Joyce!”

 

“And you’re surprised by this?”

 

Karen rolled her eyes. She knew precisely why Joyce hated gossip and thankfully dropped the subject as they ascended the front steps to the school.

 

Draped across the entrance was a banner that read: WELCOME BACK CLASS OF ’65. Blue balloons and white streamers decorated the lockers, leading the way to the gymnasium. Karen and Ted made their way to a table in the atrium where the Sinclair’s were greeting the arriving alumni. When Joyce noticed Bob Newby was manning the other table all by himself, looking forlorn, she walked over with a warm smile. She knew he always had a little crush on her.

 

“Heya, Bob!”

 

“Joyce, good to see you!” Bob pepped up at the sight of her and handed her the clipboard in front of him so she could sign in and claim her drink tickets and name tag. “I-is Lonnie with you?” he asked her cautiously, feeling her out if he should expect his childhood bully to show up or not.

 

“Doubtful,” she threw him a small smile in reassurance and took the sticker he offered that said: “Joyce Horowitz” — there was no way in hell she was wearing that, but she accepted it graciously from him, anyway. “He had to go to the city for work today, so he won’t be getting back til late.”

 

Bob breathed a sigh of relief and ripped off a couple of tickets from the roll in front of him. “Here‘s your drink tickets, it’s a buck a drink after that. All proceeds go to the school.”

 

Joyce wrinkled her nose at the price, “They better be building the kids a new gymnasium if they’re charging people that.”

 

Bob chuckled, “Tell me about it. People aren’t taking the news well.” She winced, feeling sorry for him and all the flack he must have been getting from their former, and probably still rowdy, senior class. Whoever decided not to have an open bar had made a grave mistake.

 

Bob looked around them to make sure they were alone and lowered his voice, “Here, you can have Lonnie’s drinks too… tell no one,” he ripped off another row of tickets for her, and she mimed zipping her lips, taking them with a nod of thanks. Good ol’ Bob.

 

“Maybe we can catch up later? After I finish my MC duties?”

 

Joyce nodded at him, distracted. Karen was waving her towards the gym, and she took that as her cue, “See you in there, Newby. Stay strong!” Joyce nodded at him in solidarity, as she headed after her friends, leaving a disappointed Bob alone again.

 

Tables lined the outskirts of the gymnasium, and they set the stage up to look just like it did the night of prom ten years ago. Through the cigarette haze hanging at the rafters, a disco ball turned over the dance floor. Its lights reflected off the blue and silver foil streamers hanging from the rafters, making the gym flash in time to the mix of the current music and songs of yesteryear. The whole room was practically iridescent, and Joyce wrinkled her nose at the garish sight.

 

She crumpled up the name tag in her hand and threw it in the nearest trash can, pointing herself in the bar's direction, a dozen drink tickets in hand. It was definitely time to get this party started.

 

Karen was already getting her and Ted something to drink, waving to people she wanted to chat to when Joyce caught up to her. She let Karen head off into the crowd, scouting out the “cool kids” that they used to hang with. As she waited for the bartender to pour her a rum and coke, Joyce scanned the room. Her classmates were trickling in through the doors now, and she looked around to see if there was anyone from the old gang she still kept in touch with.

 

She spotted Benny off in the far corner by the bleachers talking with a bunch of the former football team. He was never that hard to miss, being the tallest guy in their graduating class and he raised his drink to her when she caught his eye, nudging the guys next to him to say hi.

 

Joyce smiled and waved, happy to see a few friendly faces — Benny was always so kind to her over the years. The man to Benny’s left, whom she didn’t seem to recognize, waggled his eyes at her and was making his way over when Benny pulled him back, shaking his head no. He was probably telling him she was Lonnie Byers’ old lady, and it wasn’t a smart idea to approach her, marking her off-limits to the group of men. She might as well have had a scarlet letter stitched to her dress.

 

That’s when she noticed a group of women next to the bar, looking at her, smirking and giggling to themselves. Joyce wanted to disappear. Fan-fucking-tastic, she thought. Already ostracized, and it was barely 9 o’clock. She would need way more booze if she wanted to make it through the night.

 

Turning her back to the gossip-y shrews, she noticed that the gym had really filled up now with more and more people she recognized, yet not a single one was the person she was hoping to see. Joyce and Karen had planned to arrive fashionably late, but it was getting even later now; the doors had opened well over an hour ago. Maybe he couldn’t make it after all? That might have been a blessing in disguise, especially now she was having second thoughts.

 

Just when she felt a strange combination of relief and disappointment he might not make an appearance, Hopper strode in through the main double doors in a lesson of ‘be careful what you wish for.’

 

The whole gym seemed to turn to watch his every move. The strobes flashed to the beat of the music in a dazzling display, as if lighting his entrance just for Joyce. A deep bass rumbled through the sound system, and as Carly Simon sang about her ex-lover walking into a party wearing an apricot scarf, Joyce watched her ex walk across the gym in slow motion. Her heart pounded in her chest. She felt flushed and took a swig of her drink, wishing it was stronger.

 

The fates really couldn’t have timed it any better if they had tried.

 

A small group of people, mostly women from their graduating class, were fluttering about him, bombarding him with questions. He was smiling and laughing, nodding with them, slapping an old friend on the back who handed him a Miller Lite as if he were the great Jay Gatsby and this was his exclusive party. He was the center of attention; the talk of the town.

 

Hopper was never voted the most likely to succeed in high school, but he was likely the most successful now after being promoted to Homicide Detective at the NYPD after two short years on the force. Lonnie’s words from an argument the week before echoed in her ears… Mr. Big-Shot from New York City.

 

But Hop didn’t look like a big shot to her. Sure, he was clean shaven now, with his dirty blonde hair slicked back and dressed up in a navy sport coat — a little unusual for his tastes, she could admit. Despite the wardrobe change, to her, he looked the same as ever… just a little older, a little more distinguished.

 

A tall frosty blonde followed in behind him a moment later, wearing a long silver cocktail dress with an attached cape draped over her bare shoulders, her hair piled on the top of her head in a perfect chignon. She looked like she walked off the red carpet and compared to the surrounding crowd, she was overdressed for the small-town high school reunion. Hopper reached out to her and pulled her close to introduce her to the group. That had to be her — his wife. Diane.

 

Joyce groaned, a fear she never knew she had just realized. Hopper’s wife was drop dead gorgeous. 

 

What was she expecting though, really? That he would have shown up without his wife? That they had divorced, and he would use this reunion as an excuse to hook up again? He’d confess his undying love, and they’d run away together into the warm, Indiana summer night?

 

Joyce didn’t think she was that naïve, yet these thoughts had run wild through her head the weeks leading up to that evening, and now she wished she hadn’t thought them at all.

 

Marissa approached her then giving Joyce a much-needed break from her thoughts, asking her if she was having a good time, and wanting to catch up. Joyce remembered the mousy brunette from chairing the debate club, and as her old acquaintance droned on and on about her new job at the library, she also remembered why she had always tried to avoid poor, boring Marissa in high school.

 

Marissa suddenly interjected, catching Joyce’s attention, “I’m honestly surprised you married Lonnie, you know.”

 

“Oh?” She asked, impressed that she said it to her face.

 

Marissa nodded, lips pursed. “Everyone thought you and Jim Hopper would make it…” She turned her head to look in his direction, and Joyce followed her gaze. They watched Hopper wrap his arm around Diane.

 

The other woman clucked her tongue, “But, here we are!”

 

Joyce just bit her cheek and forced a polite smile.

 

Karen thankfully walked by at that exact moment, and Joyce finally saw an out to the awkward conversation. She politely excused herself to catch up with her seemingly only friend at the party, and asked, “Hey, where did you go?”

 

“Oh my god, Joyce, I’m having the best time. Who knew reunions were so much fun!” Karen giggled, sipping a tequila sunrise with a little blue umbrella and a maraschino cherry.

 

“Well, yeah, you were homecoming queen three years in a row and head of the Pep squad. Of course you’re having fun Karen,” Joyce looked at her pointedly.

 

Karen scoffed, “Oh, come on, Joyce! Like this isn’t fun for you, too.”

 

Joyce shrugged. She didn’t exactly leave high school with the best reputation as she recalled and it seemed some people here wanted her to remember that fact. Though, she supposed, she was a little excited to see where the night would lead her; there was something fascinating about the first high school reunion she couldn’t deny.

 

“I really think — Hi Mary Beth, how are you?” Karen waved behind Joyce before turning her attention back to her friend, “I really think high school was the best time of our lives… I am living for tonight.”

 

Joyce rolled her eyes at Karen, “What about your children? Raising them isn’t the best time of your life?”

 

“Get a grip, Joyce.” Karen snorted into her cocktail, and Joyce laughed at her reaction; while they could both agree that their children were their pride and joy, they were absolutely exhausting to raise most days. She could definitely see her friend’s point of view.

 

“Ok, fine, go… have fun. Just come and find me when you and Ted are leaving, please? I don’t think Lonnie‘s gonna make it tonight.” Joyce’s voice fell, but she waved a concerned Karen off as she spoke, trying to make light of her statement.

 

She was over it by now, anyway. Lonnie was notoriously bad at keeping plans. It was always a pleasant surprise when he made an appearance to an important event for her. She frequently joked it was a miracle he even showed up for their wedding on time. He was even late to their youngest son’s birth for pete’s sake.

 

Joyce watched as Karen joined a group of people and introduced an indifferent Ted. She tried to look interested in the party that was forming around her, tapping her feet to the song playing. She quickly gave up when she realized what a fool she must look like standing at the edge of the room, bopping to the music by herself.

 

She had turned her attention back to the rum and coke in her hand when out of the corner of her eye, she caught Hopper watching her. She choked on her drink, spinning her back to him so he couldn’t see her spit her drink in a coughing fit.

 

Was she seeing things or was he staring at her? She cleared her throat and slowly, casually turned back toward him, when their eyes locked for a split second and she got her answer.

 

He was staring. Hard.

 

Joyce pretended not to notice, focusing her attention on the drink in her hand and walking toward the memory wall to look at the collage of photos from senior year, hoping that he’d maybe get the hint this was his invitation to approach her.

 

When she had looked at every single photo on the damn wall twice — and only finding herself once — she looked back to see if Hop was still watching. He was deep in conversation with Calvin Powell now, probably about cop-stuff since Calvin just joined the Hawkins Police Department. He was facing Joyce over his friend’s shoulder, his eyes casually tracking every move she made. He was like an antique painting stuck to the wall; his cobalt blues followed her wherever she moved around the room.

 

Joyce made her way back to the bar and lingered there for a long moment, deciding on another drink before finding a seat at the nearest table on the opposite side of the room from him. Crossing her legs, chin in her hands, she watched the crowd of people as they mulled about her, forming off into decade-old cliques. She was trying her best to look not-too-obvious while she sat there; pretending like she wasn’t also keeping an eye on him, but trying to entice him to walk over all at the same time. Lord knows, she’d be damned if she made the first move.

 

A few other people came up to chit-chat with her and say their hellos, ask about Lonnie and the kids, and she was thankful that someone, anyone wanted to catch up with her so she didn’t look like a complete loner.  She was also grateful that they left her alone after only a few minutes so she didn’t have to keep up the charade.

 

She was clicking her nails against the tabletop now, watching her drink quickly disappear in front of her when she felt annoyed. Why the hell wasn’t he coming to say hello? She took one more glance at him and this time their eyes locked.

 

Joyce felt hot under his gaze and not knowing what else she could do now he caught her, she threw a tiny smile and a wave across the dance floor. He didn’t have time to respond before Diane walked up behind him and threw her arms around his chest, recapturing his attention. He turned to face his wife and just like that; the moment was over.

 

Knocking back the rest of her drink, Joyce let her shoulders fall as she stood up and walked to the double doors. Stepping out into the cool night air, she took a deep breath, in desperate need of something stronger now.

 

Making sure she was alone, she lit the emergency joint she had hidden in her silver cigarette case and walked around the side of the gymnasium to where she knew she could puff in peace. She found the steps leading down to high school basement right where they had left it — a familiar place she knew she wouldn’t be bothered. Leaning against the railing, she inhaled deeply and let the heavy smoke wash over her senses. What the hell was she thinking coming to this thing anyway? She wished she would have saved the babysitting money and stayed home to watch tv in her pajamas.

 

Staring down at the stairwell below, the one place she remembered most vividly from her formative years, she realized it hadn’t changed much at all. There was some new graffiti, a few more cracks but other than that it looked the same as it did ten years ago. Looking at it from this angle, she felt the same; a few cracks in the facade, some new scars, but not much else had changed, and there were even times she forgot that she was closing in on thirty now… she certainly didn’t feel any older than her teenage self. Funny how time could fly like that.

 

She slid her hand along the guardrail and walked to the top of the steps, toying with the idea, but hesitating. Should she look?

 

Is it still there?

 

She walked down step by step until she came to the bottom and counted down six from the top and to the right and there it was, scratched in the cement step by a Swiss army knife over a decade previous. Looking duller than she remembered it, but still recognizable.

 

_**JH²** _

 

Jim Hopper and Joyce Horowitz. JH squared.

 

She chuckled to herself; they were definitely a couple of squares, as she so fondly recalled. Running her hand over the letters, she felt the outline in the cold cement under the pads of her fingers, and she let herself feel all the lingering memories it brought back…

 

Their shared first kiss during spin the bottle at Karen’s eleventh birthday party.

 

Prom night and fooling around in the back of his car after they realized how much they both wanted each other and then subsequently getting caught.

 

The last time she saw him, finally giving into forbidden temptation.

 

The bittersweet memory of the exact moment she realized she loved him more than anyone else in the entire world and that she had made a terrible mistake.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Footsteps echoed on the sidewalk above, bringing her out of her reverie and she peeked over the top step to see a recognizable face glancing around him as he casually walked towards her. Oddly enough, she wasn’t even surprised to see him walk around the corner. She should have known this is where they’d meet up.  
   
A sense of calm overcame her as he arrived at the top of the steps, looking down the stairwell. “Funny seeing you here,” she beamed at him.  
   
He smirked at her, “Could say the same for you.”  
   
Taking her last puff off the joint, she offered the roach to him, as he descended the steps, egging him on. “Doobie? Or is this too illegal for you now, Detective Hopper?”  
   
Glancing around them one more time, he decided they were well enough alone and snapped his fingers,  “Gimme.”  
   
He snatched it up from her offering fingers and as he sat down on the bottom step, took a long slow hit off the end of the joint, finishing it. He held his breath deep before blowing a steady stream of smoke out the side of his mouth, diverting the cloud away from her. Always such a gentleman, that Jim Hopper.  
   
Throwing it on the ground, he smirked, “Thanks, I needed that. This reunion blows.”  
   
“Oh my god, it’s awful!” She nodded in agreement. “They asked Karen to head the committee, but she had her hands full with the kids, so when they asked Marissa to be runner-up I think she went crazy with power.”  
   
“Is that why there’s goddamned glitter everywhere?” He asked, examining the rainbow of sparkles stuck to the palm of his hand in the moonlight. He brushed his hand on his sport coat, and Joyce giggled, feeling bad for the current high school students. They’d be finding glitter for weeks in that gymnasium.  
   
“Got a smoke?” He asked her, and she lit one for herself before she passed him her case and a lighter from her purse. He lit the cigarette and coughed, “I’m supposed to be off these.”  
   
“Really? You quit? Color me shocked.”  
   
“It’s for my girl,” he shrugged.  
   
Joyce frowned, confused, sitting down next to him now, “Diane doesn’t approve?”  
   
With a small chuckle, he shook his head, no.  
   
“Sara, my daughter,” he reminded her, reaching into his coat pocket for his wallet. “I guess you haven’t seen pictures yet, have you?”  
   
She shook her head no at his inquiry and felt like a dummy. He quit smoking for his baby girl. C’mon Joyce, get with the program.  
   
Hopper was the epitome of a proud papa as she showed her the pictures in his wallet, pointing at the tiny blonde toddler in the photos. She had her daddy’s flash of blue eyes and his dimples when she smiled. She was breathtaking, and he had a whole fold of pictures devoted to her. Rightly so! Joyce melted over them and let him gush about his daughter, watching him closely as he beamed with pride.  
   
When they had looked at all the pictures of Sara they could, and he told her in-depth about his daughter’s newfound love of Sesame Street, he turned to Joyce and asked, “How are the boys?”  
   
Stoked he asked, Joyce felt like her cheeks might explode she was smiling so hard. She loved talking about those two little munchkins, probably more than she should. “So good… Jonathan is about to turn nine, and Will just turned—.”  
   
“Four now, huh?” Hopper furrowed his brow, as if doing the math in his head.  
   
Joyce nodded, taken aback he remembered. “He’s already reading now, I can’t believe it. They grow up so fast!”  
   
She tugged at her hem, realizing it had crept up on her and she was showing too much leg. She didn’t want to give him the wrong idea when they were just catching up, although part of her knew she wouldn’t mind if he got the wrong idea…  
   
Hop paused and smiled, watching her as she fidgeted with her dress.  
   
“Prom dress still looks good on you, Horowitz,” he winked.  
   
“Thank you,” she blushed, happy he noticed. She hadn’t been sure if he would’ve even remembered. She couldn’t hold his gaze and looked away, her stomach doing little flip-flops at his compliment.  
   
A pure, perfect silence fell between them, and they listened to the muffled Bruce Springsteen coming from the other side of the wall for a long moment. Neither wanted to say a word, content to just sit and feel the soft summer breeze, and each other’s presence. It seemed like it had been forever since they had sat like this as friends and she wanted to bottle up the moment for safekeeping in case it was years before it happened again.  
   
It was amazing how easy it was for them to fall back into step with one another, just like that. That had to mean something, right?  
   
“Hey,” he perked up suddenly. “Wouldya look at that!” His fingers traced the same initials she had found earlier, a goofy grin on his face.  
   
She laughed, “I feel like all I remember from high school is sitting under these steps. Smoking, skipping class, defacing school property…” she listed off her misdeeds one by one on her fingers.  
   
“We were a couple of delinquents, huh?”  
   
“We tried. I’m shocked they accepted you on the force, to be honest,” she teased him, using it as a segue to her next question. “How is work going, anyway?”  
   
He shrugged, “Good, interesting, keeping me busy. Wish I had just more time to spend with my girls…”  
   
Joyce tried not to falter at his words and nodded, “And you’re still liking New York?”  
   
“Yeah, I mean, obviously it’s nothing like Hawkins. I guess there’s something about it that intrigues me… like I’ll never get bored there.”  
   
“Gee, thanks,” Joyce snorted, taking his slight at their hometown a bit too personal. She was always one to wear her heart on her sleeve. Hopper just rolled his eyes at her and shook his head. 

“Oh, I’ve missed you, Horowitz.”

That caught her attention, and her head snapped to him. “Yeah?” she smirked, eyes wide at his exclamation. 

Hopper gazed down at her, a heartfelt grin gracing his lips, sincere in the words to follow.  
“You know I love you, Joy.” 

His words took Joyce back, and her breath caught in her throat. She wasn’t expecting that. Of all the scenarios that had played out in her head earlier that afternoon as she got ready for the reunion, not once did she think that Jim Hopper would be admitting a genuine love for her, right there under the same steps where she fell for him, over a decade previous. Was she hallucinating?    
Just when she thought he might be leaning in to kiss her, she leaned in too when he pulled back, realizing what was happening. Playfully punching her shoulder instead to recover, he said, “Of course, you’re my oldest friend.” 

Just like that. Like she was his kid-sister or something. 

“Aw,” Joyce didn’t know what else to say. She shrugged it off as best she could, hoping the disappointment didn’t show when she mustered up a half-hearted, “I’ve missed you, too.” If he only knew…

His face broke out into the most beautiful smile she had ever seen, and she tried to ignore the fact her heart was breaking in two. So many thoughts ran through her head as she studied his profile, lit up in the yellow sodium-light from the parking lot. Before he could catch her staring, she followed his gaze up to the night sky. 

What the fuck was she thinking? Of course, he loved her as a friend. They had grown so close over the years, from being attached at the hip as teenagers to their recent recurring phone calls. Save for their post-high school summer fling, and that one little (mind-blowing) indiscretion five years ago, there was nothing else between them but their honest to god, platonic friendship. 

But call her crazy, there was no denying the connection she felt. There was something there. The sparks of a mutual pining, a feeling of a missed connection, though neither would ever admit it. 

“How are things with…” he trailed off, feeling her out to see if she was okay talking about it.  
   
Sighing, she glanced at him with a tired look on her face, “Lonnie? Fine, I guess. Better. He’s been trying anyway. Well, he was, until had to find another job, so he’s been in Bloomington every few days. And of course he needed a new car to boot… Now he’s back to same old Lonnie.” Her shoulders slumped when she admitted with a wavering voice, “I’ve been picking up extra shifts at the store while he’s gone. It’s been… tough.”  
   
He nodded, understanding, looking up at the bright night sky while he searched for what he could say next to ease her mind.  
   
“You’re an amazing mom, Joyce. But Lonnie? He won’t change overnight. You know that. You need to push him to do it for the boys, and you. You deserve better.”  
   
She had heard this speech from him before, always at ungodly hours through crackling phone lines, it was like he was reciting lyrics from a song she knew all the words to. 

“I know,” she sighed again. “I just, I feel like I can only try so many times. It’s like he’s good for a week or two and then it’s right back to being the same old Lonnie. Running around town, getting into trouble, bringing trouble home… And the looks people give me when they see me without him. Like tonight.” Hesitating, she finally confessed, “I think he’s still seeing that woman from Marion so I’m not sure he really wants to change at this point.”  
   
“Knowing Lonnie, probably not,” Hop was brutally honest with her now. “But if he’s a good man and knows what’s best for his family, he will.”  
   
She bit her lip at his words, trying her best not to well up with tears. He was speaking the truth, and she knew it. 

“Thank you for being such a good friend and just being there when I needed to talk to someone…“ She trailed off before continuing, voice faltering, unsure if she should say what she wanted to say next. “I swear, sometimes hearing your voice was all I needed to get through the night,” she reached out to touch his arm with a gentle squeeze.  
   
Hopper froze, and she could feel his arm tense up under her touch. He looked like he had just woken up and realized where he was. Brushing his hands off on his slacks, he stood up, ending the conversation as gently as he could. 

“Well, I’m just glad I could help. I should probably get back inside though… it was good catching up with you Joyce.”  
   
Joyce’s face fell. What the hell just happened? Did she cross the line by touching him? She stared after him as he half-jogged up the steps and out of sight, leaving her at the bottom by herself. She sat in stunned silence and listened to the distinctive, muffled opening keyboard riff of an ABBA song echoing through the thick concrete walls. She lit another dart and smoked it bitterly.  
   
When the cigarette had burned down, and her confusion and hurt slowly dissipated, she decided it was past due for another drink. Brushing herself off, she marched her way back to the reunion. She didn’t want to ruminate over what the hell she did wrong to make him run, she just accepted it. Another epic Joyce fuck-up, as Lonnie would call it.  
   
As she prepared herself to walk back into the gym, she could hear the music cut out, and someone made an announcement on the stage. Opening the door, she could see Bob greeting the class from center stage, thanking everyone for coming back to Hawkins High to celebrate their ten-year reunion together. A couple of rowdies in the back yelled out to him, heckling.  
   
“BRAAAAIN!”  
   
Joyce cringed as a few others laughed in the crowd.  
   
Bob the Brain had gained more confidence than the last time she saw him though, and now he was standing in front of the group, letting his old nickname roll off him like he had expected to hear it. Good for him, she thought.  
   
The old Bob Newby she knew would’ve withered under that many pairs of eyes. Now he was making speeches, cracking an off-timed joke or two and listing off the notable alumni who had won awards on the night of prom. He handed them certificates as they each walked up one by one to claim their title once again to cheers and jeers.  
   
Most Likely to Succeed and Best Hair went to Mr. & Mrs. Harrington, respectively; the Rear of the Year award was her own dear Karen, who of course still had it; and the Class Clown was, forever & always, Derek Henderson…  
   
She sidled up to the bar to finish watching the spectacle and ripped off two tickets to give to the bartender — that’s when she heard her name being called.  
   
“Our prom court is here tonight, so we’d like to invite the King and Queen of ’65 up to recreate their first dance and kick things off. Jim Hopper and Joyce Horowitz — sorry, Byers… come on up.”  
   
Joyce blanched. She was not at all prepared to be put on the spot like this. Why did no one warn her? Who on Earth thought this was a good idea? And why the hell wasn’t she more drunk for this?  
   
Hopper reluctantly walked up to where a single spotlight shone on the dance floor, waiting for them. He also looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole and die as he locked eyes with her from across the room for the second time that night. He was silently telling her to get up there and join him; not to leave him hanging. She could tell that he wasn’t given a heads up either and had no desire to be doing this any more than she did.  
   
When everyone around her turned to see what she would do next, Joyce said a silent prayer of thanks that Lonnie wasn’t here to see this. She asked the bartender to hold on to her drink, letting him know she’d be right back and slowly walked to the center of the room to join Hopper as the crowd clapped around them. A few people whooped at the back of the gym as their class song played — a John Lennon update of the original. She took a breath and smiled at Hop with a defeated look on her face. Let’s get this over with.  
   
Maybe no one would watch…  
   
Yeah, right.  
   
He put his hands on her waist, and she placed her hands on his shoulders, mindful to keep the distance between them while the swayed to the beat, like they were two twelve-year-olds at their first school dance.  
   
“Jesus Christ, is this as awkward for you as it is for me?” She muttered finally, under her breath, looking out at the blur of people around them, the disco-ball and spotlights above; looking anywhere but at him.  
   
“Yep,” he grunted, moving stiffly to the music — quite the opposite from the last time they did this.  
   
Joyce chewed on the inside of her lip, trying her best to keep a pleasant demeanor for prying eyes and hissed under her breath at him, “This is mortifying!”   
   
“Yep,” he chuckled.  
   
She swore she could hear people in the crowd whispering their names and immediately felt faint.  
   
“I feel like everyone is staring at us,” She looked down at their feet now, feeling her face turn red at the sudden realization they had the attention of all hundred of their classmates and their plus-ones. The rumor-mill in Hawkins would eat this up.  
   
Hopper looked around them and tapped his fingers on her back to get her attention to do the same, “It’s because they are.”  
   
Joyce looked back into the sea of faces, and one, in particular, stood out to her. Diane was burning a hole into Hopper’s back as they swayed.  
   
He softly squeezed her side then to grab her attention, “Would you mind if I asked my wife to finish the dance?” He was clearly feeling Diane’s death-rays.  
   
“Not at all!” Joyce stepped back and away from him as if he were about to spontaneously combust, relieved at his suggestion. “I’m stepping outside for some air.”  
   
He nodded and turned to the crowd, shrugging at them for show. She heard the people watching gasp and murmur as she motioned to Diane, asking her to take her place.  
   
As Diane stepped up to her husband looking confused, Joyce hustled off the floor, stopping to pick up her drink at the bar as she practically ran out the nearest exit. Lighting a cigarette with shaky hands, she stood in the open doorway and watched as Hopper wrapped his arms around his wife, softly swaying and whispered into her ear, pulling her closer.  
   
Wave after wave of emotions hit Joyce, and she drowned them in her double rum, furiously puffing away on her smoke. It was like watching a train wreck happening in slow motion; she couldn’t take her eyes off them. They looked so perfect in the twinkling lights.  
   
As the song ended and slow Stones song came on, they stayed on the dance floor and softly swayed with their cheeks pressed together — a moment that would forever ruin Wild Horses for Joyce. She finally dragged herself away from the murder scene, deciding that this might be the best time for a visit to the ladies' room.  
   
She was reapplying her lip gloss in the mirror, practicing her fake ‘I’m so happy’ smile, trying her best to make it look real and not tinged with the heartache she felt when the door flew open behind her. Karen bounded in looking like she saw a ghost.  
   
“Oh my god, Joyce. Are you okay?”  
   
Joyce tried to put on a brave face, but failed miserably, “I, uh… don’t know yet.”  
   
Karen patted Joyce on the shoulder, “Oh honey.”  
   
Joyce just raised an eyebrow, she should have seen it coming.  
   
Karen just shook her head in disbelief of it all, “Why the hell wouldn’t Marissa tell you that was the plan, or god forbid, ask either of you if it was okay first?” She put her hands on her hips, looking pointedly at Joyce’s reflection, “Want me to kick her ass?”  
   
That finally brought a real smile to Joyce’s face, and she shook her head at Karen and sighed. Maybe Marissa didn’t realize, or perhaps she did it on purpose to rub salt in the wounds? If that was the case, Joyce didn’t know what she did to deserve it, but who cared? It was already done.  
   
She shrugged and finished the latest drink of the night, slamming the glass on the counter. Glancing at the rest of the tickets in her purse, she decided she could afford to buy her friend a drink too.  
   
“C’mon Karen, we’re getting drunk.”  
   
“Yes!” Karen clapped, following Joyce out of the washroom, “Atta-a-girl!”  
   
But when they walked back out, the dance was still knee deep in slow songs, and now a twangy Dolly Parton song echoed through the rafters, stopping Joyce in her tracks. She cringed. Not Dolly. Anything but Dolly.  
   
Karen instantly recognized the pain etched on her friend’s face at the familiar sappy country music and pushed her towards the bar.  
   
“Drinks, Joyce, remember?”  
   
When they got to the front of the line, Karen grabbed four tickets from Joyce’s hand and passed them to the bartender. She pointed at him with purpose, “Two tequila sunrises please — make them doubles!” Then she grabbed her friend by the shoulders, and just short of shaking her, said, “Joyce, we have known each other for a long time now, and you know I love you dearly. You’re like a sister to me. Which is why you need to listen to me when I say you need to stop. It’s time sweetie… let it go.”  
   
Joyce could feel her bottom lip jut out at Karen’s harsh words, “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”  
   
“Oh come on, Joyce. Don’t do this to yourself. I know you’re stronger than this.”  
   
“Am I? Really, Karen?” Joyce looked at her dearest friend, pleading.  
   
Karen smiled reassuringly and brushed a stray eyelash from Joyce’s cheek, confirming for her in her best Mom-voice, “Yes, honey, you are.”  
   
Joyce didn’t believe her, the alcohol was starting to do the thinking for her. She pouted, giving into her utter sadness despite herself. She dropped into a chair and looked dejectedly out at the party around her, feeling sorrier for herself now than ever before. “I think I’m a lost cause, Karen…”  
   
“You can change that, you know,” Karen reminded her, but it fell on deaf ears.  
   
Joyce found Hopper in the crowd once more, and watched him dance with his wife, knowing in her heart of hearts she never wanted to let him go. Her heartache was etched across her face and she wasn’t about to make an effort to get out of the funk she found herself in.  
   
Karen watched Joyce for a moment and tried to distract her by stealing the cherry from the other woman’s drink. When that didn’t get a reaction from her friend, Karen threw her arms up in the air. “Well, fine, sit here and wallow then. But you should know, I’m not endorsing this… this weird game of tug of war you two are playing anymore!” 

She grabbed her drink with a huff, spinning on her heels, leaving Joyce alone again.  
 


	3. Chapter 3

Joyce pondered Karen’s words, playing them over and over in her head. She could change, sure. Forget about him, move on with her life. It would be the smartest move. For the best, really. A small part of her still loved her husband and wanted to make it work for their young family. She couldn’t give it all up for another man she only thought she knew, who also had his family to think about now. But there was no denying the pull she felt towards Hop, like he was who she was meant to be with and they made a wrong turn somewhere along the way. 

No one made her feel the way Hop made her feel. Not even Lonnie.

But she had marked her path and there was no straying from it. Her head was spinning now, contemplating Karen’s advice, until it consumed her thoughts.

“Joyce!” Bob caught her eye and waved, like a little puppy dog wagging his tail, excited to see her. Like he couldn’t believe his luck she was just sitting there all alone.

“Hey,” Joyce forced a small smile for his sake. “How’s the Master of Ceremonies?”

“Great! It’s been a fun gig so far, and no one’s tried to shove my head in the toilet yet, so I have that going for me, I guess.”

His little attempt at a joke made her chuckle.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, sitting down next to her. Was her misery really that obvious? 

“Yeah,” she did her best to play it off. “I’m good. Just not used to these late nights anymore…” That was a lame excuse, but Bob thankfully accepted it at face value. 

“I’m really sorry about the surprise dance before… I ah, thought Marissa would have told you?”

“Well, she didn’t.” Joyce snapped back, and then realized that the fiasco was not at all Bob’s fault. “Don’t worry about it,” she shrugged it off. 

“Well, uh, I have one more thing to do on stage tonight but I’d still really like to catch up… will you still be around in say, thirty minutes?” Bob asked, almost nervous about it. 

Joyce nodded, not sure if she could commit, but the smile Bob gave her was worth it. She could tell that simple gesture made his night. He drummed on the table and stood up, waving at her as he walked off to the stage.

Joyce wished the dancefloor would open up beneath her and swallow her whole as she realized she was the only person in the room sitting alone now. It reminded her of her first Snow Ball in the same gymnasium in sixth grade, where the only boy to reluctantly ask her to dance was… Jim Hopper. 

She lit up a cigarette to numbly pass the time, watching her classmates buzz around her; social butterflies dancing around a washed out wallflower. Karen’s words echoed through her mind. Maybe she was right, it was time to let it go. Nothing would ever change but her outlook, so why dwell on it anymore?

She didn’t get to finish that thought when Ted stepped into her view, interrupting her inner-monologue and blocking her view of the party, “I’m just letting you know that I’ve done my rounds. I’m going home if you want a ride.”  
   
Joyce glanced up between him and the clock on the wall, “Really, Ted? It’s not even midnight.”  
   
“Well past my bedtime, and I don’t want to turn into a pumpkin,” he deadpanned, and she knew him well enough by now to know he was serious about that bedtime.  
   
“And what about Karen?” she asked, dropping her chin in her hand, looking up at Ted, and then to his wife who was at the bar once more, ordering another drink. Joyce knew where this was going.  
   
“She’s having fun, so she’s staying. You look like a miserable wreck though. Are you coming or not?”  
   
Joyce sighed, “Someone has to stay and watch your wife.”  
   
“Well, all right then, can’t say I didn’t try. You’re a good man, Charlie Brown,” Ted patted her on the shoulder and left her alone once more — a running theme for the night, she noticed — to look after Drunk Karen.  
   
She looked dejectedly at the syrupy drink sitting on the table in front of her. Was she really staying to keep an eye on her friend or was she only staying to keep an eye on Hop? She felt like an absolute addict, needing her fix, hoping that by waiting until the bitter end she could get something more out of him before the end of the night, though the chances were slim to none. What was wrong with her?   
   
Joyce knew she probably shouldn’t indulge anymore, but she was giving up on giving a fuck. She downed the rest of the frilly drink in four big gulps and threw the rest of the cigarette in the heel of the drink. Moments later, she found herself in the bathroom once again, staring at her lonely reflection, big hazel eyes threatening to spill tears.  
   
The double tequila didn’t do much to numb the sting from Karen’s words which were now playing in her mind like a broken record. She was trying her best not to cry when the door behind her swung open.  
   
Diane hesitated as she locked eyes with Joyce in the mirror; two deer in the headlights of a Mack truck barreling towards them.  
   
Joyce caught herself awkwardly staring, so she turned and offered her best faux-smile instead, “You must be Diane!”  
   
There was a long pause, and then, “You must be the Joyce I’ve heard so much about…”  
   
Joyce wasn’t sure how to take her words, catching a hint of disapproval in the other woman’s voice. Diane was looking her up and down now, and Joyce tried not to wither under her blatant scrutiny.  
   
“It’s nice to meet you, finally!” Joyce walked toward Hopper’s wife, offering her hand to the taller woman but she looked at it unimpressed, standing her ground in front of Joyce’s only route of escape. Uh oh.  
   
When Diane didn’t shake her hand or say a word, Joyce tried to fill the uneasy silence, “I heard you and Hop had a baby girl. Congratulations — She’s beautiful!”  
   
“Oh, he showed you pictures?”  
   
Joyce nodded, “She has his eyes… he’s so proud of her, I can tell.” She was sincere in her words and hoped that Diane would pick up on that.  
   
“She is gorgeous, isn’t she? Our little angel.” Diane moved closer to Joyce, not meeting her eyes, instead looking for the words she wanted to say next. “Sara makes him so happy, you know. He would do anything for her.”  
   
Joyce felt a chill run through her as the recurring thought of Hop being a daddy to a sweet little girl popped back into her brain… she had always envisioned it would be her daughter, but not now. Her smile turned wistful then, “He must be a great dad.”  
   
“The best,” Diane looked down at Joyce, her eyes staring into her depths of her soul, her voice faltering with each word that came next, “Which is why you need to let him go now.”  
   
Joyce stammered, not sure what she should say in response. Diane had caught her off guard. “I don’t know—”  
   
“No, you do. You know…” Diane cut her off.  She was towering over Joyce now, gaining confidence, calling her bluff. “I know about your little late-night phone calls. I don’t know what you said to him, but you need to stop. He has a daughter to think about now.”  
   
Joyce’s jaw dropped. She wasn’t sure what Diane was thinking, but it wasn’t good, and she wanted to leave the bathroom unscathed, so she chose her words carefully. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t think—”  
   
“That’s right, you didn’t think, did you?” Diane’s eyes flashed with suppressed rage at Joyce’s indirect admission of guilt, “You didn’t think about us at all when you called him.”  
   
Joyce frowned, getting her back up at the other woman, standing up for herself now. “It’s not like that Diane, I didn’t mean to cause trouble between you. We’re old friends, that’s all, and I was just calling to keep in touch.”  
   
She decided it was best to leave out the fact she had confided in Hop during all those phone calls, asking for advice on how to deal with her louse of a husband and quietly taking comfort in the sound of his voice. But she reassured the blonde, “I’m married too —  it’s not like that at all!”  
   
Diane sneered at the other woman, no longer holding onto her self-restraint. She pushed by to get to the sink, giving Joyce the opportunity she needed to make a swift exit, but Diane continued.  
   
“Yes, I know you’re happily married,” Diane sneered. “And I’m sure in your little world, you truly believe you weren’t causing trouble, but you did. And you will stop, now,” Diane ran the water, letting it course over her shaking hands. It was her turn to stare Joyce down in the mirror. A brief flash of sadness passed over her face. She looked harrowed, defeated under the tint of the garish-white fluorescent lights, as she went on, “He talks in his sleep, you know.”   
   
“Oh…” Joyce wasn’t sure where she was going with this, but she knew she couldn’t just walk out now; Diane wasn’t done with her yet.  
   
“Sometimes it’s about Vietnam… or work… But most nights he just talks to you,” The other woman informed Joyce, a tinge of jealousy in her voice, before turning the taps off and spinning around to face her once more.  
   
“I’ve been listening to him mumble your name in his sleep for five years, Joyce — over and over. Just when it slows down, and I think it will stop… you call, and he starts all over again,” her cheeks were red now and tears forming in her eyes. Drying her hands, she bitterly threw the crumpled paper towel in the trash before she spoke again.

“We haven’t spoke since last year,” Joyce confessed, and that was the God’s honest truth.

Diane nodded, “I know. I asked him to stop calling you then, and I’m telling you the same now. I want you to forget he ever existed.”  
   
Joyce honestly didn’t know what to say. She didn’t realize what a mess she had caused just by calling him when she needed a friend. There was no arguing with the wife though. Two drunk, giggling women walked in then and they had to move into the corner of the bathroom to let them pass by to get to the stalls. Diane lowered her voice so only Joyce could hear her, the words becoming more calculated and threatening as they spilled from her mouth, yet maintaining a pleasant tone to not draw attention from the others in the room.

“Look, I don’t give a flying fuck about the sad little life you lead here in Bumpkin, Indiana. My husband is neither your therapist, or your friend. Not anymore,” She twisted a crimson nail in Joyce’s face to hammer her point home. “He’s never coming back. Jim is happy in New York. He’s happy with us, and I won’t let anything come between our family. Do you understand?”  
   
Joyce nodded, desperate to leave the conversation at this point.  
   
Diane straightened up, cleared her throat and flashed a brilliant smile at her. “Good! It was so nice to meet you, Joyce. Have a great night!”  
   
And with that, she left Joyce behind in the bathroom, stunned, her heart pounding in her chest. She suddenly felt the urge to run as far and as fast away from this nightmare of a high school reunion as possible. She gave Diane a twenty-second head start and then followed her out, careful to go in the opposite direction.  
   
Diane was only a few feet away from the door though, talking heatedly with Hopper. She was trying to keep her voice lowered, hands waving in near-hysterics telling him what just happened. He furrowed his brow, trying to make sense of Diane’s words, shaking his head in disappointment and confusion. It looked like he was struggling to find the words to console Diane when he caught Joyce staring. He threw her a scornful look before guiding his wife back to their table, away from her.  
   
Joyce felt like she had just been slapped. Trying desperately to collect herself, she choked back her tears and prayed to whoever was pulling the strings up there for the night to be over soon.  
   
Karen appeared in front of her then, swaying on her high heels, another cocktail in hand, running wild without proper supervision.  
   
“I’m just letting you know that your husband has arrived so you might want to rein it in a bit,” Karen said, yanking on the top of Joyce’s dress, fixing her friend up, knowing Lonnie would blow a gasket if he saw Joyce on display like that.  
   
Joyce swatted Karen’s hands off of her, thoroughly annoyed now. Of course, he had to be the answer to her prayer — the perfect ending to a perfectly shitty night.  
   
As she approached him, Lonnie was shaking hands with Mr. Olsen, her old English teacher. She knew the pseudo-handshake well though and saw her husband pocket the money, slapping the older man on the shoulder as he walked away. She shook her head as she watched the scene unfold — typical Lonnie Byers.  
   
When he looked up to see her, he stopped in his tracks and grinned, arms open to her. “Babe! There you are. I was just saying hi to some old friends.”  
   
“Mr. Olsen is an ‘old friend’? Didn’t you skip his class all the time?”  
   
Lonnie rolled his eyes, and as he got closer to her he lowered his voice so only she could hear. 

“He was buying off me, Joyce, is that what you want me to say?”  
   
“I just call it like I see it, Lon,” Joyce said, not bothering to hide her disgust with him.  
   
Lonnie just smirked at her, quickly deflecting, “Well, I’m gonna call it like I see it and say I married the most beautiful girl in high school.” He eyed her up and down then, admiring his wife, “Damn, baby, you are without a doubt, the sexiest woman in this room.”  
   
“Oh my god, Lonnie,” She sighed, feeling her bad mood dissipate at his shower of compliments. He was being sincere. He always knew just what to say to make her melt and forget why she was mad in the first place, which was a rare event lately when it did happen. She halfheartedly tried to push him away but relented as he leaned in to kiss her. She murmured a “thank you,” before their lips met.  
   
Lonnie had decked himself out in a blue button-down — the polyester one she got him for Christmas last year — sleeves rolled up and his trademark jeans. With his hair slicked back, he was Joyce’s own personal James Dean for the night. He shoved his hands in his pockets bashfully when he noticed she was sizing him up. He had tried to look good for her, though he’d never admit it. 

“I know how much this dumb thing meant to you so I rushed back from Bloomington,” he said with a shrug.

Huh. Maybe he did still care.  
   
The crowd had died down now as people starting saying their goodbyes. A few people remained on the dance floor, doing the Hustle and shakin’ their groove thang, much to everyone else’s amusement. Karen was one of them, and Joyce could tell her friend was a messy level of drunk now. Farrah waves in her face, drink in hand, she looked like she didn’t have a care in the world as she danced away with their classmates.   
   
Lonnie had grabbed a beer for both of them from the leftover drink tickets and was beginning to get handsy with Joyce when the song changed, and she saw Karen out of the corner of her eye run over to where they stood on the sidelines.  
   
“C’mon Joyce, you owe me a dance, and I love this song,” Karen giggled.  
   
ABBA’s Waterloo kicked into high gear, and Joyce rolled her eyes, with a smile. She had to admit that she liked it too.  
   
Oh, what the hell… She handed her husband her beer and let Karen drag her off to the middle of the dance floor.  
   
Trying to keep up with Karen, Joyce was gun-shy at first, but as soon as the chorus kicked in, she let loose, singing along at the top of her lungs while her friend enticed her to dance, grabbing for her hands and spinning her around.  
   
As she turned she could see Hop and Diane getting ready to leave, he was again watching Joyce intently as she danced around Karen, and thankfully his wife was oblivious to his gaze.  
   
Spinning back, she saw Lonnie was watching her with a big grin on his face, digging her moves as she kept in time with the beat. She blushed, and danced up to him, pulling him along with her.   
   
ABBAs lyrics were resonating with her now more than ever before as if they were a message she should take to heart. It was time to give up the fight and surrender to the man she had made her vows to.  
   
Lonnie danced between Karen and Joyce, grabbing for his wife to pull her into a close embrace once the song switched to another disco song.  
   
Hopper and Diane were finally making their exit when Joyce found herself hanging off Lonnie, dancing against him in perfect time as they both laughed at Karen’s solo dance moves. A weight lifted from her shoulders then, as she watched Hopper walk out the door and she finally allowed herself to relax and enjoy herself.  
   
Pulling herself closer into Lonnie’s tall frame, she breathed in the scent of his cologne and mumbled into his neck, “Where were you tonight?”  
   
“You know, work stuff…”  
   
She knew what that meant, and she didn’t bother to ask any further questions, knowing Lonnie wouldn’t expand on it. They walked back to their beers and watched as Karen found someone else to dance with, not slowing down any time soon. Her hangover would be brutal tomorrow.  
   
“Did you have fun?” Lonnie asked Joyce, wrapping an arm around her, his hand finding her lower back and dipping down even further to pinch her butt.  
   
She nodded, not daring to tell him what actually happened, knowing it would only be the start of an epic fight.  
   
He kissed her forehead and smiled, “Good. Maybe we can get you home soon and get this dress off…”  
   
Joyce just smiled, relieved that he had other things on his mind and he didn’t bother to ask about Hopper. That was Lonnie for her — always a complete dog.  
   
Deciding it was indeed time for them to go, she flagged Karen down and got her friend ready to leave. Karen realized half way to the car that she had put her purse down somewhere and forgot where it was, so while the girls headed back to look around the gym, Lonnie went to bring the car around.  
   
Once they found the purse and Joyce had Karen aimed toward the door, she felt relieved that the night was finally over and done with.  
   
“Did you make out with Jim?” Karen slurred her words as she asked Joyce the burning question of the night, practically falling on her as she spoke.  
   
“What? Karen, no!”  
   
“Dammit, I had a bet with Ted you would. Now I have to let him buy a La-Z-Boy. Fuck…” Karen hiccupped, and Joyce chuckled. It wasn’t in Karen’s usual lady-like demeanor to cuss like that, nor for Ted to give Joyce a vote of confidence.  
   
She struggled to keep Karen upright now and half-carried her dead weight out of the school to the bench facing the parking lot. Dropping her down with little fanfare, she frowned at the inebriated woman before her, “Remember, like two hours ago? You told me to let it go… and besides, Diane—” She paused for a long moment, not sure if she wanted to divulge this information to Karen. Realizing her friend probably wouldn’t remember in the morning, she continued, only to indulge the urge to vent.  
   
“Hop’s wife told me off in the bathroom. Said I was destroying her family, just by talking to him… so, I’m backing off.”  
   
Karen gasped and covered her mouth, “No! She did not!”  
   
Joyce just nodded her head.  
   
“So that’s it? You’re done?” Karen tilted her head, a look of disbelief spreading across her face.  
   
“Yep,” Joyce said. She distracted herself from what she was saying by watching for Lonnie with the car. “No more Hop. It’s for the best, really.”  
   
“That’s Bullshit!” Karen flung her arms in the air, switching emotions like she was changing channels on the TV. Then she pointed at Joyce like Samantha Stevens casting one of her witchy spells. “He’ll be back, I know it.”  
   
Joyce rolled her eyes at her friend’s change of heart on the subject, “How many tequila sunrises did you have tonight, Karen?” One too many, obviously.  
   
“Eight? Maybe… eleven,” Karen hiccuped again and laid her head on Joyce’s shoulder, promptly passing out.   
   
Joyce sighed, staring ahead, waiting for Lonnie to rescue her from her fate, as their classmates trickled out of the school walking past them to get to their cars. She looked down at her hands in defeat, reflecting on the night and noticed how the full moon reflected off her wedding ring. She had forgotten how pretty the plain gold band and tiny diamond could be when it caught the light. The reminder made her resolve she wasn’t ready to give up on that promise she made Lonnie. Maybe Hop was right… Perhaps she could still get him to change for her sake and their boys.  
   
“Hey,” a voice called out to her, and she looked up to see Hopper walking out the front doors of the school.  
   
Joyce sat up straighter, turning to face him as Karen’s head lolled to the side. “Hey… I thought you left?”  
   
“Diane forgot her purse,” He waved the little silver clutch in his hand and then hesitated, wandering towards her, trying choosing his words carefully but coming off accusatory, anyway. “What did you say to my wife in the bathroom?”  
   
She could feel her cheeks flush at his words. She shook her head, reassuring him, “Nothing! We ran into each other. It’s fine. She seems really nice, Hop.”  
   
“You didn’t… say anything that might have upset her?” Hopper raised his eyebrow at her.  
   
Joyce tried her best to look confused and shook her head, doubling down on her lies, “No! We just said hi, and chatted about New York. That’s all.” Now she was covering for Diane, what the hell was wrong with her?  
   
He stared through her, not-quite-believing what he was hearing. He always knew when she was lying.  
   
She shrugged, “I don’t think I said anything upsetting.” She could at least feel confident that was the truth.  
   
He opened his mouth to say something more but stopped himself. His troubled look shifted to reveal a softer side, giving her a glimpse of all the unspoken truths that were weighing him down. He didn’t say anything, and he didn’t have to; she could read what was on his mind. A weighted silence filled the space between them, pushing them apart and both realized there was nothing more to say.  
   
He pointed at a passed out Karen, finally breaking the heavy moment, “You girls got a ride?”  
   
She didn’t bother to acknowledge what a ridiculous idea it was to offer her a ride after everything that had just happened, but that was Jim Hopper. Only he could be both chivalrous and utterly clueless at the same time.  
   
“Yeah, Lon’s just pulling the car around,” Joyce dismissed him, fed up now. She just wanted to go home. She rubbed Karen’s back, hoping to revive her before Lonnie got there so they could make a quick escape.  
   
Hopper took her casual mention of her husband as his cue to exit. “All right, well I guess I’ll see you around,” he mumbled, and rocked back on his heels, walking away slowly, as if he was waiting for her to say something, anything.  
   
Despite all her instincts to follow through with the chase, she bit her tongue and watched him walk away. It was the hardest thing she ever had to do.  
   
He stepped off the curb just as Karen stirred and catcalled after him in her stupor, “Your wife’s a bitch!” Her words garbled together as they tumbled out her mouth, faster than the stream of vomit that followed.  
   
Joyce gasped as Karen’s eight tequila sunrises painted her toes with a Day-Glo orange wave and Hop just stood there watching the scene unfold in front of him, trying hard to hide his laughter at Joyce’s unfortunate turn of events. She glared at him, feeling her irritation peaking.  
   
“Yeah, uh,” he backed up, silently rescinding his offer to help. “Good luck with that one, Horowitz!” he called out over his shoulder as he retreated into the night.  
   
Joyce fumed, looking between the mess at her feet and his shadow disappearing into the night across the parking lot; both making her feel sick to her stomach.  
   
Lonnie squealed up to the curb a few seconds later, and Joyce struggled to lift Karen up, getting Lonnie to put her in the front seat while she slipped off the ruined heels and threw them in the car's trunk. She watched from the backseat as Hawkins passed her by in a yellow streetlamp haze and took turns with Lonnie to keep Karen awake for the short ride home.  
   
When they pulled up to the house on Maple Street, they both walked Karen to the front door, Joyce in bare feet with Lonnie on the other side. They propped up the drunk woman as she stumbled up the walkway to her front door, an utter mess. Lonnie made a crack about Karen’s inability to hold her drink, which Karen wholeheartedly agreed with, and Joyce laughed so hard she had tears in her eyes.  
   
The door opened, and Lonnie passed Karen off to Ted, while Joyce apologized for returning his wife back to him in such a state. Ted just shrugged, not at all surprised and guided Karen in, closing the door behind them.  
   
As the Byers walked back to Lonnie’s shiny new Ford LTD, he grabbed Joyce and kissed her on the sidewalk, his hand lifting the hem of her dress to cup her ass. She let herself sink into his familiar embrace as he mumbled into her mouth, “Let’s get you home, beautiful.”  
   
Joyce didn’t bother to think any more about the night she had, about all the things left unsaid between her and Hopper, or the shame she had felt when Diane confronted her. She decided then at that moment she didn’t want to worry about her life anymore, finding a sense of calm in the chaos of her life instead. She would accept whatever path she was meant to be on, even if it meant that she never saw Hopper again.  
   
Though, a small tugging feeling deep inside her told her that Karen was right… He’d be back.


End file.
